George Singleton tells of battle between timber rattler and kingsnake

Eastern Kingsnake, common in Alabama.

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Eyewitness to nature: The Stone Age lingers” was originally published in the Sept. 21, 1972 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

In my wanderings over the backroads of Monroe County, I see many things. I see the laws of nature practiced today, just as they have been practiced for 10,000 years. I see the fight for survival, fought just as hard as it was when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. 

In our modern day world, we are inclined to forget these laws and the balancing of the earth’s inhabitants. Man has, with all his learnings, set himself aside from the survival struggle to a great extent, and most times forgets or is not aware of the fearful battle that is taking place.

It was during one of my backwoods trips that I witnessed one of the most cruel and deadliest fights for survival that one might imagine. As I rode down this trail, I came upon a huge timber rattler. As I approached this large snake, I decided I would harass it a little and make it rattle. 

I had done this on several occasions, by cutting a small keen switch and giving the rattler a switching. This makes one furious, or always had in past experiences. But as I got off my trail bike in preparation for cutting myself a switch, I noticed that something was unusual. 

The big timber rattler was moving as though he was afraid; as if something was after him. Then I saw his reason for fear. A kingsnake was fast closing in upon this huge rattler, and I knew that it was to be a fight to the death.

The rattler was doing everything possible to get away from the kingsnake, but the kingsnake, who was only about half the size of the rattler, wouldn’t be deprived of this battle to the death. The kingsnake teased the rattler for a few minutes, maneuvering just outside striking distance of the rattler’s fangs. With rattles singing, the rattler struck again and again only to find that he was outflanked by the fast kingsnake. 

The deadly teasing went on as though the kingsnake was enjoying the game of death that was taking place with me as spectator. Closer and closer the kingsnake moved, like a shadow or phantom snake, moving ever nearer within grasping range of the rattler. Every move was timed, as though the teasing kingsnake had trained many hours for this moment. 

Minutes passed. The huge rattler was tiring. His rattling seemed to be slower and his strikes were farther and farther apart.

So fast was the move of the kingsnake that I hardly was aware that he had embedded his fangs behind the rattler’s head. The old rattler seemed to summon his last bit of strength, but to no avail. The kingsnake began to slowly squeeze the life from the rattler’s body. 

More and more the kingsnake squeezed. Slower and weaker the rattles sounded. Then there was silence. Mother Nature had trained her silent gladiator well. The huge rattler was dead.

When the kingsnake seemed satisfied that his opponent was dead, he released his hold on the rattler and withdrew to the side. After an unsuccessful attempt to swallow the lifeless rattler, the victorious warrior moved slowly away.

Mother Nature had set the stage for a one act play, a gruesome engaged play to the fullest. I was the audience. As I rode away, I was reminded that I had witnessed one of Nature’s laws in its most primitive forms. Cruel though it was, the law of the fang had been administered.

[This story also included a photo of the rattlesnake with the following caption: A huge rattler that later fell victim to the uncanny agility and strategically placed bite of the Kingsnake.]

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)